


mapping the labyrinth

by Splashattack



Series: Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Gen, Light Angst, Masks, Self-Discovery, mazes as a metaphor for mazes, no beta because I'm too tired to find one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splashattack/pseuds/Splashattack
Summary: There's a reason Wilde specializes in illusionary magic, and it is simple: he is, himself, a man of smoke and mirrors.written for day seven of wilde week.I will forever argue that wilde would be with the stranger
Relationships: Commander James Barnes & Howard Carter & Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, The London and Other London Outstanding Mercenary Group | LOLOMG & Oscar Wilde
Series: Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029099
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	mapping the labyrinth

**Author's Note:**

> day seven: truth/lies/omission

There's a reason Wilde specializes in illusionary magic, and it is simple: he is, himself, a man of smoke and mirrors. It's not evident at first, so elegantly designed is the labyrinth, but one can only take so many left turns before they realize they're walking in circles. He is masks and personas and webs, veiled beneath a crisp accent and barrage of witty retorts. He is the ultimate actor, impossible to map.

There's the Wilde he plays around his friends from school: pleasantly bright, a factory of rumors, widely considered a bad influence and universally loved or hated. He enjoys this self, delights in the familiar meaningless chatter beneath spreading maple branches and endless sunshine. He is the tickling tail feather of a peacock, the sweetness of a stolen sweet, the warm burn of bourbon down a throat.

He's much different around the rest of his peers, is more subdued, more clever in his remarks. He's sharp as a blade and quicker than the arc it cuts through the air, has even been called intimidating. This is the Wilde who participated in literary critiques, who survived countless dull interviews. This Wilde is the _snap_ of a closing book, the cutting scent of sandalwood, the feel of polished wood beneath a palm. He is alert, calculating.

It's a different Wilde who first meets the people who would become his family: he's playing the flamboyant, blasé entertainer then. His feet are kicked over the arm of a luxuriously upholstered armchair, a glass of red wine taken from someone else's cabinet held delicately. He's flippant, teasing, a smear of bright colors and bold words. What he likes the most about this version of himself is the reactions he receives: there's a cool blade at his throat, an angry dwarf in front of him, and a mountain of a man who has chosen, of all things, to _flirt_ with him. It always interests his masked analytical side to see how different groups react to the posh, aloof nature he exudes.

The issue with having so many personas, Wilde knows, is that with a maze so expertly-crafted as his own, even the designer can lose themselves within the twisting passages. He can't remember a time before he hid like this, and he has no clue who Oscar Wilde truly is.

The first clue is one he'd rather not receive. It comes after weeks of restless sleep, of skipped meals and a fuzzy head. It's when he wakes to Grizzop yelling for a healer, face-first in a pile of papers, blood on his face and panic in his mind. He is self-sacrificing.

There's another Wilde, saved for hiding worry. It's the one he uses when the days tick into weeks tick into months after LOLOMG leave for Rome. It's the him that contacts Zolf, the one that breaks from the meritocrats. This is he least favorite self to be: he is closed, distant, forgetful. He is always a second from snapping.

It's when Zolf, Barnes, and Carter first step out the quarantine cell after the longest week of Wilde's life that he learns more about who he is. Through hysterical laughter, he embraces them, and he knows that he is loyal, that he cares. He knows that without the disguises, he is not a bad person.

Navigating the spiralling mess that is his personality is a daunting task, even for Wilde, but he's working at it. One day, maybe, he'll be able to shed the extra layers, both from the world and from himself.


End file.
